and the static played long
children lost, bred from the bleeding of chewed tongues
the sounds came from each corner of a carousel
crumbling human paper
entire days thrown into waste baskets affixed to nowhere
to nothing
digital profanity came dripping from their radio eyes
all in the streets the Sickness
in dark rivers rushing
cutting the small silent figures away at the knees
but they do not see
what i see
they do not hear
they have faces which blister with angry sky
bodies blown away slow
on the wind.
not i.
not i.
.
Allison Marie Conway 